by R. J. Blain
“Having,” I corrected. “So it’s the gathering of all the families?”
“Exactly, Delaney.” He smiled. “I am to speak to my heart.” He pointed at Ryder. “We have been apart.”
“You and your heart? You have a special person?” I asked. “Someone you love like I love Ryder?”
He grunted, and it was that mix of guttural and purr I had never been able to mimic. A sweetly goofy grin spread across his face. “My gifts will be bright, my song will be free, then my heart will come home with me.”
“Here to Ordinary?” I asked. “That’s wonderful, Flip. Remember to bring this heart person to me so I can meet them and explain the rules, okay?”
He grunted again, this one softer, higher.
“All right. So do tell me if you see anyone stealing lights,” I reminded him. “And have a great time at the gathering.”
He made a little hooting hum, and I knew that was a happy sound.
I stepped away from the truck; Ryder did the same, bringing the cart with him.
Flip rolled up the window, started the old truck, then rambled out of the parking lot, his indicator light flicking before he turned onto the road and headed north out of town.
“So what do you think?” I asked as we started back to the Jeep, Ryder stopping to swing the cart into the corral on the way past.
“I think I just met a real live Sasquatch. Who likes to rhyme.”
“The rhyming thing is how English makes the most sense to him. But do you think he’s telling the truth?”
“I wouldn’t even know how to read his body language.”
I glanced over at Ryder. Even in the rain, even in the dark and wind, his smile was bright.
“You liked him, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“So you don’t think he stole the traffic light?”
“He didn’t look guilty to me. But you know him better. What do you think?”
We’d made it to the Jeep, and both got in as quickly as possible.
I started the engine to warm the vehicle but shivered anyway. Oregon storms hit to the bone even through layers of waterproofing and wool.
“I think I want dinner and a hot shower. And not necessarily in that order.”
“I like the sound of that. Are you off the clock for the night, or do you have reports to file?”
I did have reports to file. Being a police officer meant the paperwork never ended. But the dash clock said it was 5:30. With the windstorm building, and a power transfer happening bright and early tomorrow morning, my best chance for food, downtime, and maybe even sleep was opting out of my habitual overtime.
“I am so done for the night,” I said. “How about you? Any extra work waiting for you at the construction site?”
“Nope. That’s buttoned down. Next project starts up in three weeks.”
The reminder was there. Maybe he didn’t mean it to be, but he would be slammed with business soon. Then we would be working the festivals, working our jobs, and dealing with everything else that happened in a town like ours. The window of time for our vacation—any one we picked—was swiftly closing.
This weekend was pretty much it.
I didn’t bring it up again. Not while I was dripping wet and hungry.
“It appears we may have synchronized evenings off, Mr. Bailey,” I teased instead.
“It appears we do. Any suggestions for how to fill our time, Ms. Reed?”
“Dinner?” I asked hopefully. “Shower?”
Ryder fiddled with the vents and held his hands over the one nearest him. “Someone might have left chicken marinating and fresh homemade bread cooling.”
I groaned and my stomach rumbled at his words. “You are the best fiancé in the world.”
He leaned toward me and gave me a quick, firm kiss. “That goes without saying. Now drive. I’m starving.”
So I drove.
Chapter Seven
The storm was still raging, but Ryder had started the fire, and his dog, Spud, was over there snoring. The dragon pig was using the dog’s butt for a pillow.
“New placemats?” I asked, tapping one of the half-dozen laminated mats on the kitchen island. It was a beautiful brochure touting all the fun things to do in Sedona. Next to that was Chicago, the Olympic rainforest, and a spelunking map.
Ryder straightened as he removed the food from the oven. “I had a little time on my hands.”
I picked up Sedona, turned it over, and grinned when I saw a list written in Ryder’s clean blocky script. “Pros: restaurants, artisans, wine tour, canyon tours, stars. Cons: too woo-woo.”
“You think Sedona, Arizona, is too woo-woo? For the woman who spends her life dealing with gods and monsters and magic?”
“They have a buttload of energy vortexes there. Says so in the pamphlet.”
“I think I can handle a few energy vortexes. At least they aren’t gateways for demon spawn.”
He turned with dinner: a pan of beautifully roasted chicken and vegetables with a sauce almost thick enough to be gravy. It smelled like heaven.
“That you know of.”
“That we know of,” I agreed.
“So you like the idea of Sedona, huh?” He settled dinner in the middle of the island, slightly to one side, then plucked serving utensils out of the drawer.
“I do like the idea of Sedona,” I said.
He dished food, and I dished food. Once our plates were full, he asked, “But?”
I took a bit of chicken then a chunk of yam, both covered in garlic, rosemary and sage sauce. “Oh, my gods,” I mumbled. “This is amazing.”
“Thank you. I got the recipe from Myra. Back to Sedona. But?”
I sighed and put my fork down, twisting my fingers in the cloth napkin I’d dropped in my lap.
“I can’t do it.”
“Sedona?” He sat back, pulling his beer with him, but not taking a drink yet.
“Yeah. Too far. I mean if Death is going to be handling all the god powers while I’m gone, I think I need to stay relatively nearby.”
He took a drink, waiting. The wind plowed over the roofing, tugging at the gutters and power lines.
“That makes sense. I’m not asking for the moon, Laney. I mean, unless we could book the moon.”
I grinned. “Terrible restaurants on the moon.”
“Oh?”
“No atmosphere at all.”
He blinked. Blinked again. Then he gulped down half his beer and pointed it at me. “That was a terrible joke.”
“No, it was perfect timing. For the gravity of our conversation. Get it? Gravity?”
He shoveled food in his mouth and just shook his head.
I followed his lead and ate dinner, enjoying every bite. I enjoyed the quiet, too, because I needed that sometimes. No questions, no demands, no conversation. Just our safe, comfy house around us. Just the two of us together.
“What about LaPine?” he finally asked. “The cabin. It’s in a little forested area overlooking a glade. Hot tub on the deck. Out in the middle of almost nowhere. All the privacy we could want.”
I sighed, picked up my beer and sipped. “Sounds like heaven. What days is it reserved for?”
“Tomorrow through Sunday.”
“Four whole days?”
“Well, I could extend the stay. I just wasn’t sure you would be willing to stay away any longer.”
“Because of my job?”
He shrugged. “That. And this is our first time vacationing together. I thought we might want to try a few days and see how it went before we booked a month cruise somewhere.”
“I am never going to cruise anywhere,” I said. “I don’t like boats nearly enough.”
He grinned. “Good to know. I’m never spelunking.”
“Good to know.”
I stood and took our plates to the sink. “This is our only chance, isn’t it?” I asked over the frothing of bubbles in the sink.
“To go on vacation?”
I n
odded. He was twisted in his chair, watching me. I flicked bubbles his way and he batted them out of the air.
“We’ll have other chances.”
“But not for a long time,” I said. “Maybe not until next year.”
He finished his beer, then put both bottles in the recycle bin. “True. Plus, we have a wedding coming up. Lots to plan on top of everything else.”
I groaned. “It’s so much planning.”
He chuckled and stepped up behind me, hands landing on my hips, then stroking down my jeans before he wrapped his arms around me, pressing his warmth and his strength against my body, his mouth near my ear. “I like planning extravagant things with you,” he murmured, all sexy-like.
“A pizza tower isn’t extravagant,” I murmured back. “When I say fancy wedding, there better be some fancy stuff.”
He exhaled and the warm burst of air on my neck made me shiver. Then he leaned in a little closer and bit gently at my earlobe. “But it’s a whole tower. Made of pizza.”
“I expect you to bring your A-game to these negotiations, Mr. Bailey.”
He hummed and pressed a kiss to the base of my neck. Electricity ran through me: chest, spine, hips. Good thing I had already turned off the water or there’d have been bubbles all over the floor.
“How about a no-host bar?” he husked.
“Odin would kill me.”
“We’ll provide the fancy pretzels.”
“Pretzels aren’t fancy,” I gasped, as his hands slipped around in front of me, fingers gently tugging my sweater up just enough for his hands to slip under and stroke my heated skin.
“We can make them fancy.”
“How?”
“Chocolate-dipped pretzels.”
“Still not fancy enough. And what about the cake?”
He tugged my earlobe a little harder. “Who needs a dumb cake? Just serve everyone chocolate pretzels. Easy. Cheap. Give them a can of whipped cream and let them go nuts.” He deposited a hot, sucking kiss on my jaw.
I held my breath, so I didn’t groan. As soon as his lips lifted, I spun to face him, my hand locked and loaded with a mountain of bubbles. “No cake?”
His eyes were huge as I smashed my palm into his face, bubbles flying in all directions.
He spit and sputtered. “You did not just shove soap in my mouth.” He released me and backed up, bumping into the island.
“What’s that?” I batted my eyes innocently. “You were telling me we’re not going to have a dumb wedding cake? You want pretzels instead of a dumb wedding cake? I have been planning this wedding my whole life.”
Not true. I’d been obsessed with eloping since I first heard about it. Mostly because eloping seemed like some kind of legal crime.
“There had better be all sorts of fancy things happening at our wedding. Including cake.”
His eyes narrowed, and he tipped his head down. But that smile was all sin. “I think you better run, Delaney Reed. Or I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”
I stood there, vibrating, knowing this was a game and the chase was on.
But instead of running, instead of making him chase me, I walked to him slowly, stood so close I could see his heartbeat through his shirt, could feel his need in waves radiating off him.
“I like the sound of action,” I said. “No accountability required.” Then I kissed him until the world faded and only we remained.
Chapter Eight
Two things happened at once: the knocking on the front door turned into pounding, and a brick wall fell on top of me.
“Ow,” I muttered, pushing at the brick wall. “Get off, bud.”
The brick wall grunted, then growled a very dragon-y growl. A soft piggy nose snuffled my palm, hot dragon breath washing over my skin.
I opened my eyes.
Dragon pig sat on my thighs, weighing roughly as much as a firehouse, wagging its tiny pink tail.
It oinked once, and that oink sounded very satisfied. It also smelled weirdly electric.
The pounding at the front door stopped, then started up again. This time just a knuckle rapping out the beat to a song. Sounded like the base line to “We Will Rock You.”
“Is that Queen?” Ryder’s voice was muffled by the pillow covering his head. Spud sat like a good boy on the floor but was big enough he could lick Ryder’s ears if Ryder didn’t take morning pillow position.
I pushed up on my elbows, pointed at the dragon pig. “Off please. I’ll get you breakfast after I deal with the door.”
“Thank you,” Ryder mumbled. “Coffee too?”
I leaned over and kissed my man on the bare shoulder, right by his tattoo. “I was talking to the dragon pig.”
Then I yanked the pillow off his head. He scrabbled for it.
“Too slow,” I grinned. I smacked him in the face.
He howled. I ran out of the bedroom as he hollered threats I knew he’d never actually follow through on.
I got to the door before he’d even launched out of bed, and when he skidded into the living room, I held up a warning finger. “Someone’s at the door.”
He was wearing boxer briefs and nothing else, his hair sticking up on one side. He crossed those gorgeous arms over his hard chest and leaned his shoulder against the wall.
“Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll wait.”
I tucked my hair behind my ears and made sure Ryder’s T-shirt, which I’d thrown on last night, covered my underwear.
Good enough.
I looked through the peephole and groaned.
Crow waggled his fingers at me and kept knocking.
I threw the chains and locks and opened the door. “What?” I asked. “I haven’t had coffee yet. You should know I have killed men for trying to talk to me before I am caffeinated.”
“Bunny-boo,” Crow said. “This is your Uncle Crow. You know I’ll take care of you.” He lifted his other hand which held a coffee carrier and three large, lidded cups of coffee.
I tore my gaze away from the delicious smelling beverage and studied him.
“What do you want?”
He smiled like a lying Mc-lying-faced liar. “Coffee with my favorite Reed sister.” He lifted the cups higher.
He was so full of shit. I knew this was a bad idea, but I hadn’t had coffee yet, and I tended to make the worst decisions before breakfast.
“Okay, fine.” I stepped out of the way so he could come inside. “But I know you’re here for something.”
“I am,” he agreed, unzipping his hoodie. “I’m here for coffee. But look at you, Ryder Bailey. That six pack is making me jealous. Also a little turned on, if I’m honest.”
Ryder rolled his eyes and turned toward the bedroom. “Delaney, you want me to bring your pants?”
“Yes.”
Crow watched Ryder walk away, then pivoted on the balls of his feet. “Wow,” he whispered. “Didn’t he grow up nice?”
I grabbed the carrier out of his hands and stomped off to the kitchen. “You’ve seen him in his swim trunks every summer. All that isn’t anything you haven’t seen before.” I pulled one of the cups out of the cardboard and took a huge swallow.
Hot, bitter, with chocolate and caramel to take the sting out of it. Delicious. “That’s my fiancé you’re ogling, Crow.”
“And can I just say how happy I am for you two kids. Starting a new life together, soulmates finally tying the knot. Like some kind of dream come true.”
I narrowed my eyes and gulped down half the cup. The caffeine hadn’t hit yet, but the heat of the drink, and the shifty-eyed god who’d brought it had woken me up. All the way awake.
So awake, I knew what this visit was about. Well, not the details, but the basics for sure.
“What did you do?” I asked.
Crow strolled over, his hands behind his back. His forest-green hoodie was wet at the shoulders but not soaked all the way through. The storm had finally blown itself out in the early hours of the morning leaving a cloudy sky and only spits of rain.
“I brought you coffee,” he said, taking one of the seats at the kitchen island.
“Uh-huh. And?”
“And Ryder too. And one for me. So we can all have a nice cup of coffee together.”
“Why?”
Ryder came through the kitchen with Spud and the dragon pig hot on his heels.
Ryder had changed into jeans and a white Henley shirt under a navy flannel. He came straight to me, kissed me on the mouth, then pressed my favorite pair of jeans into my hands.
“Morning,” he murmured.
I smiled, liking him this close. Liking that freckle on the edge of his eyebrow, the laugh lines at his eyes, the smell of his deodorant mixed with the caramel scent of coffee.
“Morning.”
“Morning, Ryder,” Crow cooed.
“What did you do?” Ryder asked, moving to the door.
Crow made an affronted sound. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Ryder opened the door so Spud and the dragon pig could go outside and do their business. Not that the dragon pig actually did any business, but it liked to trot around in the yard so the other creatures understood that this yard, this house, and those within it were its domain.
“You brought us coffee.” I shoved my legs into my jeans. “It’s five in the morning. I know all the steps to your little dance of unaccountability, so whatever you’re about to tell me is absolutely your fault, and you’re going to have to clean up your mess. Talk.”
Crow reached over, plucked up a cup and took a sip. “You were such a quiet child. How did you grow up so…”
I raised an eyebrow.
He laughed. “All right, fine. This wasn’t my fault.”
Ryder snorted and took the last cup in the holder.
I made the hurry-up signal, rolling my finger. “Get to the point.”
“Well, there’s good and bad news.”
“Talk, or I’ll tell Bertie you’re going to be her new right-hand man for anything she needs to keep the festivals running.”
“Yowza. You’re leading with the big guns this morning, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Talk, Crow.”